


What's the word, Cas?

by destielmao



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Cas POV, Castiel POV, Cute, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Oneshot, Fluff, Innocent, M/M, Oneshot, SO MUCH FLUFF, SPN - Freeform, Sam is mentioned, Season 9 ish, Serious, Short Story, Supernatural - Freeform, eventual kiss, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielmao/pseuds/destielmao
Summary: Cas is bored. So Cas likes to think. Cas especially likes to think about Dean.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in a really short amount of time with not much editing after, I was just in a particularly destiel-frustrated mood. So this was born and it's kinda cute, written mainly from third-person Cas-POV. And yes this is my first and most likely last fanfiction, I'm hardly a writer. I hope you like it anyways!

Cas was bored. He was bored a lot lately; he’d taken to narrating his boredom in his mind when Sam and Dean were busy. “Cas was bored”, he’d think. “Cas walked over to the kitchen and poked at the pan on which Dean had prepared-“, he paused to inspect the pan, “some form of chicken secretion this morning. Cas was disgusted.” He enjoyed this passtime, as it meant it kept his mind from wandering elsewhere, into darker matters he could not begin to figure out as of yet. Besides. He enjoyed starting every sentence with that word. ’Cas’. He liked the way it sounded in his mind. He felt honoured by it; the shortened version of his name which marked the start of his acceptance into Sam and Dean’s family. The name Dean had given to him. He enjoyed the way his mind could say the word which his mouth could not; the only way he considered correct, with that Kansas twang and growled undertone that came naturally with Dean’s voice. “Cas headed back to the library, in which nothing had changed”, he thought to himself, picking up and putting away any books related to a past case or which had just fallen off the top of the shelves where Sam had put them to make fun of Dean’s height. Cas understood theoretically why this was amusing, but often thought that Sam’s height was more abnormal than his brother’s, so he should really be on the receiving end of the teasing. “Cas avoided thinking about heaven”, he thought, “Cas instead thought about…”, he stopped. What would he think about? “Dean.” A smile wormed it’s way up from Castiel’s throat and made a home on his lips. “Cas thought about how Dean was everything God wanted man to be. Cas thought about how Dean was selfless and brave and how, although Cas had seen everything since before the dawn of the human, he had never once met one as…perfect as Dean Winchester.”  
Cas’ thoughts were brought to a halt by the sound of boots on the floorboards, followed by the creak of the stairs, which he made a mental note to fix the next time he was bored. “Cas?” - the one right way to say that little word. “Dean, how was the hunt?”. As Dean started to tell Cas the details of the kill he and Sam had made earlier, Cas could not keep his voice in focus. His thoughts from earlier kept interrupting, snippets of words. “Brave” said his mind. “Selfless”. “Perfect”. In order to attempt to keep track of Dean’s words, currently an explanation of why Sam had to go dispose of the body in some particular site before the moon’s peak, Castiel locked his eyes onto Dean’s mouth, trying to lip read. This worked for a few seconds before new words began to swim in and out of his head. “Beautiful”, his mind said.”Soft”. “Safe’. Cas squinted and tilted his head in thought, stopping Dean’s speech. “Cas? You okay?” He stamped the words into the air and pushed his eyebrows into the folds of his forehead. “Cas.” Castiel repeated the word back to him, trying to say it the way Dean did. Before Dean could ask what the hell was going on, Cas stepped forward and took his hand. He turned it over to examine the rough pads of his palm, the worn fingertips. “How do you cope, Dean? With thinking. It doesn't turn off or calm down, it can’t be fooled and it rarely makes sense until too late. Maybe thoughts are a flaw in the design of beings.” He said to Dean’s palm. Looking back up, right into Dean’s confused and cautious frown, he gave him the words and watched their slow trail into the man’s mind. “I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. When I think about heaven, I feel scared. When I think about Earth, I feel unwelcome. So why is it, when I think of you, I feel safe?”  
Dean’s mouth, those mesmerising lips, lay apart from each other and his eyes were alert with shock. This. This was unexpected. Truth be told, he was more caught off guard than surprised. He understood the message Cas was trying to convey amongst his words. The feeling he, too, could not put a name to and could be described only through example and comparison. He who had risen from hell and he who had fallen from heaven were locked in this middle ground, hovering in some place other than in themselves. Dean understood. “Cas”. Castiel understood. “Dean”. Dean’s lack of ability to hold tension excused for a short laugh which Castiel could feel ingrain itself into his face, blanketing every nerve ending like sunlight brightening a forest. “You think of me often?” He teased, his casually tossed words outlined with a shell which gave away that he was serious. “When it is night and I can see the dots of stars millions of miles away, I don’t see where I came from. I see the freckles on your cheeks. When shadows form on the walls if I am in the house alone, I don’t wonder about what is blocking the light to cause it. I wonder how many times you’ve held it in your hands or if it has been deprived of your touch.” Cas put a hand to Dean’s face, not to cause harm and not to heal his wounds like he’d done in the past. He moulded his palm to his cheek, carefully so Dean could pull it off if he wanted to. Apparently he didn’t. “When I’m bored and here and thinking, I don’t focus on wishing for anything I used to have. I only focus on one thing I wish to have forever.”  
He pushed the ground away with his toes and landed with his mouth onto Dean’s. In the movies, both parties pause before they begin to move together and realise their true feelings they’ve had building up from the start. This is what both of them had been expecting to happen, but in reality there was no pause. They didn’t move together, either. They moved separately, each trying to prove himself to be more thankful, each trying to steal a layer of this, to keep in their minds forever. Each desperately trying to forget everything else important because this perfect moment was the reality they both wanted to be their whole lives. This is what it felt like to be happy. They’d both long forgotten. They stood there, at the bottom of the stairs in the bunker, for as long as they felt they could, their kiss growing and shrinking and constantly being reborn into something new, until eventually they pulled apart.  
After the amount of thinking Castiel had done lately, he had finally found the word. A single name to pair with the feelings, to tie everything he felt when he thought of Dean together with a neat little bow. One short word to present to Dean as a gift, in return for the one Dean had given to him years ago. Dean had given him “Cas”. Castiel had given him “Love”.


End file.
